Ulterior Motives
by CorvusCorvidae
Summary: Corporate espionage is nothing new to Quinn, but Santana Lopez is, and this will be one job she'll never forget. AU. One-shot. Quinntana Week Day Six: Spies/Secret Agents.


Quinntana Week Day Six: Spies/Secret Agents

I apologise for this being late.

*0*0*

Ulterior Motives

*0*0*

The gentleman at the end of the table had a crooked tie, and it brought a small smile to your lips as you followed the assistant in and took a seat at the only one available. It was on the other side of a large expansive boardroom desk, where six members were seated, all of which were staring at you.

Four men, two women, all impressively poised, and projecting the respectability their company sold. Yet, from where you were seated, and from the tie of the man on the far right, they were crooks dressed to disguise their true nature. If they weren't, you wouldn't have been there.

"Miss Fabray, welcome. We're very pleased to have you here." It was said with warm smiles from all, and you returned it with a nod.

"And I'm very pleased to be here," you replied, allowing your eyes to sweep over them once more and take in the more reluctant members of the group. There was always one amongst the herd that no longer wished to follow the shepherd, but this group was doing a rather surprising job of hiding said fact, you noted.

"You're aware of why you're here, correct?"

"I am, yes."

"We…we don't want to say exactly-" the gentleman gave a little chuckle and shrugged his shoulder, and you picked up where he was leaving off.

"I understand." They always were so worried about you flipping for the Feds. As if you would want to get involved in that mess. "Good. Good."

There was a slight pause in the room, and they exchanged looks before one reached under the desk and handed over a manila file. You accepted it with a thank you and opened it there. They may not have been willing to say what they wanted you to do but they were ready to give you information in hand.

If they thought for one second that because they didn't give a verbal confession of asking you to spy and steal information that they wouldn't get in trouble, they were severely wrong. This entire conversation was illegal, which they were aware of, but this file was incriminating enough. However, you were on their side.

They had larger cheque books, after all.

Perusing the information carefully, scanning over the mark and their details, you nodded to show that you had no problem with carrying this out. What they were after and what they wanted was indicated clearly, and the location of such material was provided, as well. They'd actually done a surprisingly good job at setting this up. And that only meant one thing.

"How many others have attempted this job?" you asked, closing the file over and raising your eyebrow in question. This took them by surprise and made a few uneasy, but you needed to know.

"Three others. They were all unsuccessful." They all looked rather pained by the admission, but you couldn't care less about them. Their answer had been entirely too revealing.

Three failed attempts, and no news on how they failed. So, this wasn't going to be as easy as you thought, and you were going to have to do background checks and put out some feelers to see if you knew any of those that had attempted this job.

You were also going to need to run a full investigation on the location of the material you were to extract, because if this was old intel then it could get you caught, and you had managed to keep yourself out of jail this long, and you didn't plan on that changing any time soon.

"I gathered, otherwise I wouldn't be sitting here," you remarked, running your fingers along the edge of the file carefully.

"Yes, and you come highly recommended." There was nothing to say to that; it was the truth. "However, what we're asking you might not be something you're willing to-"

"Sir, I think it best you stop right there," you began, sitting up straighter in your chair. "I come highly recommended because of what I'm willing to do, and I can assure you that what you'll be asking me is nothing I haven't heard before."

"We're not going to tell you how to do your job, Miss Fabray. All we ask is that you consider this before signing on. We're entrusting you to do this discreetly and professionally, even though what you may have to do is not professional or discreet at all." Each and every one of them squirmed in their chairs, and your eyes glanced back down to the file.

They knew something that they hadn't shared with you, something that wasn't indicated in the file. It made you a little uneasy, but you could handle it. Once you left this office you would have your team working round the clock to get all the details. Whatever they didn't want to ask you would come out sooner or later.

"I understand that, and I can assure you that I'll get this done. No matter what," you replied seriously, and then the weakest member of the group allowed themselves to be known.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" the youngest member of the room asked, his face filled with concern.

"Are you sure you're going to make good on your end of the deal?" you asked in return.

"Get us what we need, and everything will be ready for you." You looked back to the man who had handed you the folder and nodded. He seemed to be the one leading this charge, and if he said he could deliver, you would too.

"Then I'm sure."

"Alright. After this we won't have contact with you, and once you've got the information we need, you know how to get a hold of us." You nodded in agreement, familiar with this practice.

"I do." Giving them a polite smile, you rose to your feet, file in hand, and began to leave. There was no need to prolong this. You had what you came for.

"Good luck," one of them called, and it brought a small smile to your lips.

"I won't be needing luck, but thank you anyway." With that, you closed the door behind you and made quick leave of the building, making sure to stand within the camera blind spots and take the stairs down to the bottom floor.

It was time to get to work.

*0*0*

Meeting up with the other members of your team, you allowed them to go over the details in the folder and prep a plan of action. The company you were employed by were looking to retrieve data off a laptop of a rival company. They made it sound like a relatively easy job, but with three failed attempts under their belt, it spoke for itself.

Mike, your tech and surveillance man, was quick to provide you with all the details of you mark. Santana Lopez, young, smart, inherited her father's company after tearing the board of directors to shreds. Her reputation was fierce, unwavering, and she was not someone people liked to mess with. However, it wasn't her standing that would be the issue on hand, as you were soon to find out.

She lived in a penthouse suite, overlooking the city, but well within view of other city apartments. It was ideal and perfect for watching in on what the woman was up to at all hours, learning her routine, trying to see if the laptop that was so sought after was in sight.

Knowing that routines were subject to change, you gave your team ample time to have everything ready, allowing you time to clean up some loose ends for when this job was finished. Once you had all that in order, it was time to check in and get things started.

"How's it going?" you asked Mike, having headed up to the apartment you were renting opposite Santana's.

Mike had set up shop in there, and was on duty for that evening. You had spoken to him a few times to clarify certain aspects of the job, and to get his opinion on what looked like the most successful entry point. You were hoping that tonight he would have those details for you.

"Pretty good. I think I've found a way in for you," he answered, sitting back in the makeshift living room.

The apartment was sparsely decorated, with blinds on the windows keeping the view out, and an old couch with a coffee table taking pride of place. In the spare bedroom there was a pull out couch for the nights anyone had to stay over, and as the main bedroom had the best view of Santana's home, the surveillance equipment had been installed to watch her. That left the rest of the living room with makeshift desks for all of the technical gear.

"Oh yeah?" you murmured, throwing your coat off, it landing with a thump on the couch, and then nodding towards the bedroom. You knew Santana was home, Mike's status updates had told you that much, but as of yet you hadn't actually seen who you would be stealing from. You'd seen her picture, yes, but there was a big difference between what someone looked like in a corporate photo and what they looked like in their own home.

"She…well, she…" he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, and you cocked your eyebrow at him.

"Spit it out, Mike. You're starting to sound like the client." He flushed at the comment and took a seat in the wicker chair sat in the corner while you moved towards the window. The blinds in here hid the lens very well, and without touching the one that was recording, you moved to the telescope and looked through.

It gave you a perfect view of Santana's apartment in its entirety. Her walls were made of glass, and you could see her front door straight through to her bedroom. All you couldn't see was the bathroom, but you'd already had a look at floor plans and knew which door led off to what.

Just like you knew her to be, Santana was working away in her kitchen, her hair loose over her shoulders, kitted out in sleep shorts and a shirt, and she looked to be singing under her breath. You swallowed away the lump in your throat as your eyes took in her appearance. She was athletically fit from the looks of it, but of no considerable threat as you could see. Though, you hoped no physical altercation would need to take place.

"I think this is what they might have already known but not told you, because from what I can see, she doesn't leave that laptop alone," Mike began, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in the chair. "She takes it to work, where I already checked and the schematics of the building make it impossible to get to. And don't even think that you could do it on the commute because she's surrounded by some pretty heavy bodyguards. We're talking teams. I know she's-"

"So what's the way in?" you enquired, not needing to know the details of what had already been ruled out. If Mike said it was impossible, you were going to trust him completely.

"She used to go to bars, clubs, places like that and pick up girls," he replied, and he let that sentence hang in the air for a second.

You had done your own research on Santana before coming there, looking at public records and reading titbits in gossip columns so it wasn't a surprise to know she was into women. While never having come right out and said it exactly, her sexuality wasn't a secret.

"Plural?" you wondered, subconsciously cocking your eyebrow and swallowing, your eyes still glued on the woman across the street, who was mixing up a salad of sorts.

"Yeah. I spoke to Tina, and she did the surveillance for two of the other attempts. She sent it over, and plural is a definite. But it did reveal how she's changed her pattern. She no longer goes out and does that anymore. Instead, she has a couple of escorts that she sees every alternating weeks."

"They need me to sleep with her to get to it," you deducted, and let out a humourless laugh under your breath.

"That's the only way you're getting through that door, Q," Mike said, shrugging. "She doesn't have parties. She doesn't use maids or anything like that. She has three of her closest friends, two of those work for her, and they do the menial jobs. Basically, that place is her sanctuary, and there's no other way in."

You let that thought sit in your mind a moment, and a small smile toyed at your lips. If the client thought this was the worst you'd ever been asked to do, they were sadly mistaken. Giving your body up in the name of a job was nothing new. However, you had never had to do so with a woman before. But then again, thank God for your college years. It would be so much harder if this was your first rodeo.

"So she screws the escort, then what?" you asked, needing to know the routine thoroughly before putting yourself in that position, if it was even possible.

"Typically, she falls asleep. They both do. Girl stays until morning, Santana shows her out after breakfast, or brunch depending on…"

"Does she serve food and drinks?" Those were always helpful when it came to incapacitating or persuading someone.

"Yeah, but she doesn't let them near it, and she gets it delivered but the schedule fluctuates and it's too tricky to tamper with. You can't drug her, not unless you did it while she slept but most drugs she'd be able to feel when she woke that she'd been knocked out."

"She drinks alcohol?"

"No, she serves it, and the escorts drink it, but she doesn't." Well, that made things slightly more tricky. "You can't make it look like a hangover," Mike finished, and you nodded in agreement.

"How long does she usually sleep?"

"On a regular night, about six hours. She doesn't sleep long at all. On an escort night, once their done, she sleeps through." That was promising, however.

"What escort service does she use, or rather, can you hack it?" you asked, turning to look at Mike with your eyebrows raised. He grinned back at you, pleased with himself, and nodded.

"I already looked into it, and we don't need to hack it. Because of how low-key they need to be, they run their site through one of Artie's servers. He has access to everything. I've already spoken to him, and he's agreed to aid us in whatever we need, at a price." Of course, there was always a price.

"I'll give him seven percent." That was generous, plenty generous given the pay day ahead.

"I'll let him know," Mike replied, and he followed you back through the apartment to where he had set up base with his computers.

"Can I see the site?" you asked, allowing him to slide past you and take a seat.

Mike hummed in agreement and quickly set about loading up the website. In no time at all, he had you in and looking at the set up. They had quite a few gorgeous men and women, all with details and preferences, as well as price ranges. It was classy, up front, and to the point, exactly what you needed it to be.

"I'm going to need to get some photos done. Think you're up to it?"

In order to blend in, you would need to be an escort available to Santana, and that meant capturing you at your best, or at least, showing off what this website deemed your best assets. It wasn't just underwear shots, but there was at least one of those attached to each escort.

"I could just put your face on another body, you know. Wouldn't that be easier?" Mike wondered, finding another blonde on the site who was similar enough in body size to make the swap.

"And what, have me floundering to explain why the mole or birthmark in that picture has suddenly vanished on my body? I don't think so. We need this to look real, genuine. Set it up. If…if Artie won't go for seven, try and work with him, but ten is my top number. If he won't do it for ten, I'll find a way round him." Ten was your limit, but Artie was an upstanding guy so hopefully he wouldn't push for it. You needed to be fair, but you needed to make sure you walked away with nothing less than fifty percent of the payday.

"Got it," Mike replied, sending off a quick email to Artie before your eyes.

*0*0*

In the days that followed, you heard back from Artie, and you had the go ahead at eight percent. Mike and you were quick to get photos up taken, with one night designated to that, and then he spent the early hours of the next morning making sure that it was only Santana who could see your profile, and that everything was in place.

You weren't sure how long you were going to have to wait exactly, and you didn't want to force Santana's hand. Ideally, you wanted her to pick you from the options and have it seem like nothing but another night with her girl of choice, but if you needed, you'd go around her and make sure she could only book you.

Thankfully, it didn't take too much longer. One week to be exact, and you found yourself getting the request. It was brief, to the point, turn up at nine o'clock promptly at Santana's residence. Nothing more, nothing less.

"It's later than her normal times," Mike observed, and then went to check her schedule. "She's got a business dinner earlier on, which I guess might be the reason for the shift, but if you want to, you could cancel."

As always, he worried you were walking into a trap when a tiny something was out of place or didn't fit with the regular routine. You gave him a soft smile and shook your head. No cancelling. You had worked too hard to get this far, and God only knows when you might be invited back into the Lion's den. No, you'd go, you'd be prepared, and you'd get what you needed.

It was as simple as that. No worries needed.

Of course, Mike continued to disagree and when Friday night finally rolled around, you had to stop in with him before heading over to Santana's. He had a box of leftover takeaway on the coffee table, and was looking over the surveillance footage of earlier in the day.

"She's not been up to anything suspicious. Nothing out of the ordinary anyway," he informed you with a nod. "I think you're safe to head over, but I want to keep an eye on you."

"Leave the cameras on tonight, but…don't watch," you replied, wiping down your dress to keep the creases out of it. "I'll have everything under control and nothing will go wrong, but just in case."

"Q," Mike began, sounding worried.

"No, please. Don't watch," you repeated, needing him to understand that you didn't want any more witnesses to your evening ahead.

He pursed him lips for a moment and then nodded.

"Alright, I won't watch, but if you don't check in by tomorrow morning, I'm watching the footage and raising the alarm." The gesture was sweet, but the alarm only meant telling the others involved something might have gone wrong.

"Thank you," you said, going over and giving his shoulder a squeeze.

"Take care of yourself," he called after you as you made your way to the door, and with one parting smile, you headed out.

You'd be safe. There really was nothing to worry about. Santana's history suggested nothing dangerous of the sort, unless her blunt and harsh opinions counted. You could handle this. You had played many a parts before, and this would be no different. If all went well, you'd be walking away with a seven figure payday, rather than a five, and that's all that mattered.

*0*0*

There was no pretence this evening, you knew that the second Santana opened the door for you.

Despite looking at countless photos and footage of her, and watching her from across the street only minutes before, you still were momentarily taken aback by her in person. She was so much more up close and personal.

Her beauty was obvious on paper, but being in her presence, feeling the heat of her gaze on your body, the scent of her washing over you and intoxicating you, the slight chills she sent up your spine from the way her tongue peeked out over her lips, all of it, every part of her was setting you on fire, and you hadn't even stepped over the door yet.

"You're new," she said simply, waving you in and watching as you walked past her, your heels clicking on the wooden floor. Whether her observation was a compliment or not, you didn't know. So instead of replying, you smiled back at her and nodded, taking your coat off as you did so.

You'd come prepared. You had on a simple black dress, easy to get on, easy to get off. It seemed to appeal to her as Santana's eyes raked over your body, and she closed the door with a soft click, moving closer, almost silent in her steps. She was wearing a dress much like yours, although it was red, and the contrast of her skin made her look positively wicked.

"Would you care for a drink, Quinn?" she asked, slipping past you and heading towards her liquor cabinet. It had you smiling that she remembered your name from the profile, and you moved after her, giving yourself time to survey her apartment. Kitchen to the right, bedroom to the left, study just beyond that, and bathroom tucked in between.

"No thank you," you replied, needing a clear head for this evening, and Santana smiled knowingly. She opted against mixing herself a drink at this, and you briefly wondered if you should have said yes. Despite what Mike had mentioned, it looked like she was keen to liquor up.

"Normally I'd have dinner prepared but I think…I was hoping tonight would be a little different," she murmured, moving closer again. You felt yourself relaxing automatically, as if she'd bewitched the air to calm you down.

You should have been trying to control your breathing, trying to steady the erratic beating of your heart, trying to prevent your skin from breaking out in gooseflesh, but yet nothing. You were completely at ease with the events about to proceed, and thus far it had nothing to do with the job you'd been assigned there for.

"Do you have a safe word?" Santana husked, her body right behind yours now, but not touching. It was enough to make you swallow, and you closed your eyes, trying to come up with the answer to her question. She'd just knocked over the first domino in a line of many, kick-starting the inability to keep calm and focused, and she still hadn't touched you yet.

"Red," you replied, licking your lips.

"Fan of the stop-light system, I take it?" she enquired, and you nodded softly, still locked under her gaze.

"It does the job."

Green for when your body was desperate for more; yellow when your body needed to slow it down; red for when your body couldn't handle it anymore and needed to stop.

"I'll bet." There was something so sinful about the way she spoke, husking in your ear, her hands ghosting over your sides, that your body clenched with need.

Turning you around, she grinned for a second, and it was enough for you to take in a deep breath, right before her lips were on yours, stealing it from you. She wasn't wasting time, she wasn't being soft, she was showing you how much she wanted you, how much she was going to take, and your hands gripped at her waist, holding her tightly, hers running through your hair.

Breaking the kiss with a ragged pant, she manoeuvred your body through her apartment. Her lips seeking out yours, your neck, your jaw, anywhere she could dismantle and intoxicate you. It worked, as you followed her steps like a dance, walking backwards, then forwards, her hands now on your hips guiding you to follow, to lead, and then you felt the back of your legs brush against the bottom of her bed.

You tried to sit, to move back onto it, but she wasn't having any of it. Santana shook her head slowly, tugging at your bottom lip with her teeth, her eyes focused on you, and you realised she was slowing things down. Her kisses were softer, her touch undemanding, and her breath wasn't nearly as ragged as yours was.

She was being careful. Her lips and teeth may have been devouring your neck now, the feeling of each flick and swirl winding you up higher and higher, but she wasn't rough with you. If anything, she was too gentle. The way her hands were caressing your waist, running up and down your rib cage, her fingertips just caressing the sides of your breasts, but with the pressure so light you could barely feel it.

"Please," you pleaded, trying to grind against her anyway possible. It wasn't working. It hadn't sated the desire you had for her, and she chuckled against your neck, making your knees weak.

"I love it when they beg," she moaned, her smirk pure wicked, her eyes now full of lust as they looked you over.

Spinning you around gently, Santana finally pressed her body fully into your back, grinding against you as her hands crisscrossed over your front, running up your thighs and taking your dress with it.

"You're wearing suspenders," she grunted, her lips back on your neck, licking upwards to the shell of your ear. All you could do was nod, pressing your body back into hers, throwing one hand behind you to grip her hair. You needed to hold on, to try and stay grounded. But it was damn near impossible with her growling into your ear. "This dress is coming off, and if you want it off in one piece, you'll tell me where the zipper is."

"Right side," you groaned, feeling her hands skim up your thighs, teasing your skin just around the suspender straps and then travelling higher. One hand stopped, but the other continued, until she was pressing against the only piece of material between her and your flesh, making you grind your crotch against her hand, not caring at the lewd noises and whines coming out of your mouth.

This had escalated quickly, from talk of drinking to her hand rubbing against you, making you wetter by the second. You needed her. There was nothing else to it. The throb between your legs was too much. It was fogging your brain, making it impossible to think, to remember why you were really there, to recall the details of the job at hand. All you cared about was getting naked and letting her have her way with you.

Santana's hand remained put, allowing you to grind against her with abandon, and the other slid up your body until it found the zipper on the side of the dress. She was breathing against the side of your neck, planting the occasional kiss, and you whimpered at how she was clogging every sense, making you blind to everything but her and your need.

She slowly pulled the zipper down, and you jerked back into her front, hoping she'd get the message that you wanted her to go faster, to move this along, to speed things up. She chuckled darkly, and it had your mouth going dry and your thighs clenching tightly. She sounded like pure sin.

With the dress unzipped, and your impatience growing, Santana decided to put you out of your misery. She placed both of her hands on your hips, making you buck out at the loss, and then had you facing her again. Her eyes were dark and dangerous, dilated and heady, inviting you into her world, pulling you under, like a lamb to slaughter, and you were going willingly.

Who was working over whom here?

Before you could reassess the situation and take control of the objective at hand, Santana's lips were on your shoulder, kissing next to the strap of the dress, pushing it to the side with her nose, and then kissing the newly exposed skin. You whimpered, your eyes rolling backwards at the feel of her tongue teasing you, and then she was pushing the other strap off your shoulder, allowing the dress to pool at your feet.

You watched as she looked down, taking you in, and swallowed, followed by a lick of her lips. She definitely liked your underwear, that was for sure, and the way her hands were ghosting over you, caressing the fabric on show, had your head spinning.

Could she really make you fall to pieces without actually touching you? Was that her game plan, render you a useless and incomprehensible mess? Would you even be opposed to such a plan?

Santana dropping to her knees pretty much threw that answer out the window, and your hands fell into her hair, stroking her scalp as she nuzzled into your legs, placing the odd kiss. Her fingers were nimble, unhooking the suspenders from the hold ups, and then getting you to step out your heels. You were practically swaying on your feet as she worked to get you naked, and it hadn't even occurred to you to start working on her clothes. She could wear whatever she wanted, everything or nothing, as long as she made you come. You really didn't care.

"Oh…fuck," you whimpered, feeling Santana's hot, wet mouth working its way over your inner thighs, her tongue taking full advantage to lick patterns against you, building you up again, higher and higher, making the throbbing impossible, on the edge of painful.

Wearing any underwear now felt like the worst idea you'd ever had because she was licking round the side of it, trying to flick her tongue under the material, and your body clenched into knots and twisted from desire. She was unrelenting, nuzzling into you, breathing you in, her fingers gripping your thighs, running up and down them, with the occasional moan and groan when you tugged her hair too tight.

Then she was pulling back and you were canting your hips forward, chasing the relief, but she was guiding your hips downward, making you sit on the bed. Your legs opened instinctively, allowing her body to slide between them at the edge of the bed, and then her hands were seeking out your face, cupping it in them, pulling you to her. Her lips were back to devouring yours, her tongue in your mouth, caressing, teasing and taunting you completely, and making you dizzy from the taste of her on your lips.

You couldn't get enough. She was everywhere at once. In your mouth, on your skin, in your mind, in the air, in your ears, and under your fingertips. Where you would have pulled her body on top of yours completely by now, she was the one in control and you allowed her to take her time. There was no complaining, not when her stomach was providing the best friction possible to your hips that were grinding against it.

Letting out a sharp cry, feeling Santana's teeth nip at your bottom lip harder than before, you leant back, your arms round the back of her neck, and tried not to drown in the sight before you. She was like a goddess, encapsulated in sin, and her sight was set on you.

Breathing her in, letting her scent of richness and spice, power and control, liquor and cigars, intoxicate you for just one second, you missed her hands sliding up your thighs until they reached the top of your underwear.

You were left in the suspenders, now loose, your bra, and your underwear. She made quick work of sliding the suspenders down your legs, getting you to lift your body and grind into her some more as you did so, and then set about on the bra.

When your breasts were freed, Santana hummed appreciatively and began leaving open mouthed kisses against your neck, gradually working down. Her mouth was burning you up, making you hotter and hotter until you were practically panting. It was completely impossible to think about anything other than the feel of her against you, the way she was winding you up further and further.

The end had to be in sight soon, because you really weren't sure how much more of this you could take, but as her mouth descended on your breasts, it seemed like this was only the beginning. She was taking her time with you, and your body was responding in every way possible to her ministrations.

There was no question of who was in control; it had been Santana from the second you walked through the door.

Her lips continued to kiss their way down your body while her hands removed the hold ups, leaving you only in your underwear. Your skin was breaking out into gooseflesh in her lips wake, and your stomach muscles quivered under her touch, making you suck in a shaky breath as she licked along the edge of the material.

"Can I take these off?" she asked, rather surprisingly. You hadn't given any indication that you were against this, but you were quick to nod yes when she looked at you, her eyes dark as the night and her gaze as hot as hell.

Slipping her fingers under the sides, she pulled them down your legs slowly, with you raising your body up to help her, and she moved from out between your legs to get them off you completely. With them out the way, you were completely naked before her. Santana still had on her dress, but you could see her nipples through the material, and it had you licking your lips, eyeing her up appreciatively.

She smirked at the sight of you and hooked her hands under her dress before pulling it right over her head, leaving her naked. She had forgone wearing any underwear and you were thanking God for her forethought.

Groaning at the way she ran her hands over her body, now wickedly putting a show on for you, you took deep breaths to remain calm, to try and slow your heartbeat, but were powerless from clenching your legs together to create any type of friction. Santana chuckled at the sight and came back over, completely comfortable with her body, and dropped back down to her knees.

She was now back between your legs, having pushed them apart so she could place soft, almost innocent kisses on the insides of your thighs. Her goal was obvious, but just as she was about to give you exactly what you wanted, she stopped. You moaned in frustration, frowning at her for stopping, but she just raised her eyebrow in question.

"Green," you panted, your hands reaching out and running over her shoulders. "Please, green."

Your answer earned you smile and then she dropped her head, making you arch upwards, whining at the back of your throat as her tongue explored you, slowly, surely, working you up, giving you a flick of pleasure and then pulling you deeper.

This woman, Jesus Christ, this woman. You were not prepared for her. There was no way to prepare for her. She was skilfully dismantling everything you were, wiping all thoughts and plans from your mind, rewriting your brain to think of her and only her, the way she tasted, the way she smelt, the way she looked at you, the way she sounded, the way she felt under your hands. Everything, Santana was taking you over, and you couldn't stop it even if you tried.

You sucked in another sharp breath as her tongue gave one slow stroke over you, slowing things down completely. Santana hummed appreciatively, and your fingers tangled further in her hair, unable to stop yourself. Her fingers were next to make you clench your eyes shut and whine, causing you to buck at the sensation, but then they were on your hips, trying to stop you, and you knew if you wanted her to continue, you had to let her lead.

You were her plaything; the lust and satisfaction in her eyes told you that much. She was getting off on teasing and toying with you, dragging this out, the begging, the pleading, all of it was feeding into her lust and desire. And you were completely okay with this, as long as she kept flicking her tongue like that.

Her next move broke you even further, with her fingers curling upwards, and you cried out, thrusting your hips into her, desperate for her to keep stroking, to keep applying pressure, to keep fucking you just like that. God, she was exactly where you needed her, and it felt like you were losing control. It was so good, too good, almost unbearable. You needed to come, you needed to stop this, you needed it to be over because you couldn't take it.

"I can't," you whined, and it was cut off into a moan as her other hand reached up to grasped at your breast, making you rut harder, desperate for more friction but at the same time desperate for this to stop.

No, this was just too much, she was too much, you couldn't breathe, you couldn't think, you couldn't cope. She was igniting you from the inside, setting every nerve ending on fire, letting you burn, and you needed to take control again. It was overwhelming, so overwhelming you were losing it, gasping, seeing spots in front of your eyes.

"Yellow," you whimpered, and she slowed unbelievably fast.

Her tongue stopped, her fingers moved to an easier pace before stopping, and she moved her body upwards. You moved with her, sliding yourself into the middle of the bed with her, and she wasted no time positioning herself back between your legs, and you whined at the feel of her pressing her body into yours. Your eyes were closed, but you could feel her settling above you properly, her elbows on either side of you now, and then her hand was caressing your face, pushing your hair back, her lips ghosting over yours.

"Look at me," she whispered, her hips finally moving against yours.

You did as she asked, and she took a careful look at you before closing the distance with a kiss. Her lips were almost caring in their touch, and her tongue soothed over yours as if she knew exactly what you needed and where you needed it.

You were still aching for her, desperate for release, but you could breathe again, you could see again. The fire was under control, not too hot, not too cold, and it didn't threaten to burn you to the ground if you let her loose on you once more. She seemed to sense this, too, as her pace increased.

Wrapping your legs around her body, you moaned loudly when she tugged your body into a better position, so she was thrusting directly against you, her breasts sliding over yours, her fingers tangled in your hand and her breath panting in the crook of your neck.

It was enough, it was just what you needed, and your body responded to hers like this was a perfected art between the two of you. You allowed her to lavish your neck with kisses and then words of fantasies, what she had been thinking with you moaning and panting beneath her tongue, making your body slick with sweat and lust.

It lit the fire like never before, having you clenching and holding on to every ounce of pleasure she was worshipping you with, and you worked with her to push yourself higher and higher. She was coming up close behind you, her hips faltering, her breath frantic, her teeth skimming your neck, and each thrust was harder than before, faster than before, and you couldn't, there was nothing to hold you back, making you crash so thoroughly, shattering into pieces.

You cried out her name like a prayer, clinging to her body like it was your salvation, and let yourself bask in the onslaught of wave after wave of ecstasy, each one gradually calming your body down, letting you catch your breath, allowing your heart beat to slow, and giving you back your brain.

Then it was just you in her arms, feeling vulnerable all of a sudden because she had undone you so easily.

Opening your eyes, they met hers, and she was looking at you as if for the first time since you walked through the door. Leaning down gently, she nuzzled into the side of your check, planting a kiss next to your ear, and then rolled away, allowing you time to recuperate. You thought Santana was going to settle onto the bed next to you, but she didn't.

Instead, you watched her crawl off the bed completely, and in turn, you took a shaky breath and licked at your dry lips. Her body was perfection, and your assessment of her being athletic had been correct, the muscles there to prove it. Seeing her bend over, going into a bottom drawer, you groaned at the sight of her like that and bucked your hips upwards on instinct. The thoughts that view presented were completely unholy, but God, she was the epitome of lust.

Turning back around, Santana held up a strap-on, silently asking for permission, and you sat muted. Your brain provided you with every possible scenario involving the toy, and you were quick to nod. There was no saying no to such an offer.

"Green," you murmured, welcoming her smirk as she advanced on you.

You were back to being prey under her gaze again, and it was then you realised that this night was just getting started. Before now, you were satisfied you could walk out here without any hiccups, data in hand, and a seven figure payday coming your way, but if she kept up like this, you wouldn't be walking out anywhere.

*0*0*

Rising from the bed several hours later, your muscles aching and your legs shaky, you threw on a shirt she had lying over one of her bedroom chairs, crinkled and creased from being discarded at some point, and found your underwear amongst the mess on the floor.

Once covered enough so you were no longer walking around naked, you tiptoed away from the bed, leaving Santana curled up under the covers. She looked to be out completely, and you hoped it stayed that way. You did have a job to do, and as much as your body was protesting each movement you made, you couldn't forget the goal at hand.

In the living room, you shot a quick glance over your shoulder towards the bed, just to check again that Santana was still asleep, and then crept onwards through her home. The place was spotless, immaculately kept, and you were going to have to keep your wits about you. Scanning the place for security cameras, knowing that you technically hadn't done anything illegal yet so could still walk out the door if need be, you came up short.

Well, that was good news.

Next, you moved towards your bag and zipped it shut. Turning it over, you unzipped the compartment on the bottom of the bag, where you had a hard drive, a camera, and keys. It was the safest place because who ever looked on the bottom of a bag?

Taking out the camera, you took snapshots of each location that you were to possibly touch, and gathered the necessities, taking them with you through the apartment.

It was as you were working you realised that she hadn't followed the typical routine. She'd not wined and dined you like the others, but fucked your brains out, with the occasional morsel of food in between, and then gone again. Whether it was because you were new or because she was on to you, you didn't know, but you decided to be extra careful with what you were doing now.

In her study, like you knew it would be, you saw her laptop sitting pride of place on her desk. It was booted up, the screen black, but the lights beneath the keyboard flashing occasionally, and you moved over to get a closer look. There was still no sound of Santana having woken, which you took as a good sign, and promptly snapped more photos of the study and the desk itself.

Once that was completed, you took a seat and moved your fingers over the mouse pad, with the screen lighting up and showing you a log in screen. Passwords weren't your forte, but Mike had set up a program on the USB which would attempted to hack it. When the USB was plugged in, and the light on that lit up bright, you sat and waited as windows popped up in front of the log in section.

It took longer than you would have liked, with your body on edge, and listening for any sound whatsoever through the apartment, but then you were in. Santana seemed to be running some program in the background, but it was of no bother to you.

As you were in you had access to everything you needed and set about making a copy of the files you needed and transferred them across. This was the worst part, and you always hated it. Technology needed to advance quicker so that transferring large quantities and sizes of files didn't take hours. You had the best money could buy, and yet the window was saying ten minutes.

Ten minutes.

In ten minutes, Santana could be up and ready to see you out. She could be up and wanting to check her email. She could be up and happy for round five. She could be up and on your side for the rest of the night, and you wouldn't have a chance to get back to the laptop.

You just had to wait it out.

Pre-empting the worst, you rose from the chair and stood behind the desk, swaying slightly on your feet as you watched it transfer files across. You had no idea what they were for, what they actually held within them, but your client wanted them bad, and that was enough for you. Questions didn't need to be asked when the pay was that high.

With a rustle of the duvet, you froze. Santana was moving, but it didn't sound like she was getting up. She must have rolled over in the bed, maybe kicked the covers away, because you couldn't hear her feet on the flooring, but then again, your heart was beating loud enough in your ears to block anything out.

She could wind you up with or without being in the room, that was certainly a special talent.

Holding strong in your decision to stay put, you thankfully didn't live to regret it. As the files moved across, the time shortening slowly, and no sight of Santana, you realised you were still in the clear. When it was finally done, you closed the windows regarding the copy, and unplugged the USB. It was then that you wiped down the keys with the edge of the shirt, and stepped back.

Checking the scene in front of you with that of the pictures on the camera, you concluded nothing was out of place and left the study. Repeating the action through to the living room, you put your things away, securing the USB once more, and placed your bag exactly where it was.

Finally, you headed back into the bedroom, and just as you thought, Santana was sprawled out in the bed, her body twisted into a new position, sheets lying low on her chest, and you were quick to strip off. Once naked again you dropped your underwear where it was lying before, put the shirt back on the chair out of view, and crawled back into bed with her.

She was none the wiser, and you were clear. No harm, no foul, no mess.

It was quite possibly the best job you'd ever done, but with the woman lying in bed next to you, how could it not be?

*0*0*

When your night with Santana was over, and you had given the data to Mike to handle properly, you cleaned yourself up, and began getting things ready for the next stage. Meeting up with the client went as smoothly as possible, and they gave you exactly what you were after.

Job done, just like that.

You then divvied up the payday with your team, making sure Mike received his fair share, as well as those behind the scenes, and all went your own ways. It was safer not to ask where everyone was off to, just that everyone would meet back up in four months. It was plenty time to cool off from the run of jobs you had all worked, and allow sufficient rest, which was just what you needed.

Electing to leave the country, you got on a plane and flew to a villa in France, a million miles away from your reality. It had been the first piece of property you had purchased, allowing you complete seclusion from the rest of the world, and at first it was a piece of crap, run down, infested with mice, and not much to look it. Now, however, it was perfect; the dream home you had always wanted, finally yours.

The acres of vineyards you had ended up with around you also helped with the picturesque views, and you rented the land out to local farmers to use so you would never have to bother with it. All in all, it was exactly the place you needed to retreat to, to clear your head from the woman who had conquered your body without a second thought, unhinging you from reality, and making your head swarm with guilt after stealing from her. The latter was certainly a new one.

However, while Santana was in your head, you never expected to see her in the flesh again. But just like before, she was full of surprises.

The sound of a car driving up towards your house had you frowning, and the sight of the black town car was most definitely perplexing. Coming to meet the occupant, you stood outside with your hands in your pockets, your panic button resting at the bottom, and a neutral smile on your lips.

When it came to a stop and driver got out, greeting you politely and then heading to the back to open the door, your curiosity grew, and the hair on the back of your neck stood on end. It was the sight of her leg slipping out beneath the car door, the complexion of her sun kissed skin and then she came fully into view, that knocked you for six.

"Santana," you said quietly, trying not to panic. You really hadn't anticipated seeing her, and yet there she was, smiling at you no less.

"Quinn," she replied warmly, walking towards you, reaching her hand out for yours, and you found yourself grasping her hand softly.

She looked magnificent, her sunglasses covering her eyes with her hair falling over her shoulders loosely, in an immaculate white blouse and bright blue skirt. She was dressed to impress, and impressed you were.

"What, may I ask, are you doing here?" you wondered, giving her your best curious smile, though you were sure some anxiety had slipped through.

"You stole from me," she replied simply, chuckling under her breath, and you froze.

So she knew, but she wasn't angry about it. There was no malice in her eyes, no hint of anger in her touch, and it had you scrambling to work out her motive behind this visit.

"I think you let me," you said, still holding her hand in yours, unable to let go.

It was the only explanation. Mike had mentioned something about her security being weak, and you had watched back the tapes of that night, she had been entirely too relaxed, treating you completely different than all other escorts to walk through her door. You had simply put it down to you being new, but now…now that she knew, it presented a completely different case.

"I did, and it was completely worth it." Santana grinned again, reaching up to remove her sunglasses as she did so. "Have you spoken to your contacts since?" she wondered, and you shook your head.

"No, I prefer to cut contact afterwards." There was less mess that way.

"Oh, brilliant," she murmured, letting go of your hand and heading back to the car. The driver seemed to know what she was after and fetched her a newspaper, which she then brought back to you.

The headlines spoke of a major security breach at your client's employment. A virus, ravaging their systems, destroying everything from the inside, and they couldn't stop it. Financial disaster, complete breakdown of stock, loss of faith from consumers. It was all there, and Santana was smiling like the cat that had gotten the canary.

"Interesting development, don't you say?" she purred, and you let out a shaky laugh. She couldn't have, could she?

"What are you doing here? " you asked again, because this wasn't fitting in with a revenge trip to get you back for theft.

"I came to thank you. It seemed we both won a little something from this adventure." She shrugged, her eyes admiring your property, and then shot you a soft smile.

"You knew who I was before I even walked in, didn't you?" That had to be the case, it was the only option.

"I did, but I was surprised you fucked me. That was new." Hearing her say it so casually had your body in knots, and you subconsciously clenched your thighs together. How she still had that effect on you was a mystery.

"What else was I going to do?" you wondered, seeing as she was relaxed about the topic. It was as if corporate espionage was an everyday occurrence.

"Drug me, or at least that's what the last one did." Sloppy work they did, by the sounds of it, and Santana's look darkened as she spoke.

"And you expected me to try the same." That had Santana smirking once more, and you licked your lips.

"No, I knew you were special the second you walked in." God, how were you meant to think when she looked at you like that?

"Do you…do you want to stay for dinner?" It was bold, but this was unprecedented, and how could you not?

"Are you allowed to do that? Dinner with someone you've worked over?" she murmured, her voice heavy and it lit you up from the inside, like your body was trained to do with her.

"I answer to no one, therefore I can make the rules." That had Santana grinning wickedly at you, just like you remembered she could.

"Mmm, I like the sound of that." Stepping back from you, you could see her eyes were dark with lust, and they glanced down to your lips for a brief second, before her tongue peaked out on her own. "Dinner sounds lovely."

You had no idea what you were doing. This was completely out of the question, this was completely against the rules, but no, you were right. You could make the rules up as you went along, and you really did answer to no one. You could do whatever you wanted when it came to Santana, and that's exactly what you were going to do.

It was bound to get messy, it was certainly going to be difficult to manoeuvre but from the way her eyes kept lingering on your body, those concerns could be dealt with later. You had walked into her apartment full of motives and secrets, and she had come here to reveal them for what they were; obvious and predictable.

Well, now you were both on equal footing. No one was getting paid to screw the other over, and with four months of freedom ahead of you, it wasn't time to get shy. She was on your turf, at your advantage, and even though you were completely at her mercy, you were back to feeling content and relaxed around her once more.

"Will we actually be eating this time?" Santana asked, her hand gently cupping your cheek and you smiled at her, pulling you from your thoughts.

"No, not a chance."

Maybe later, but for now it was time to get reacquainted without the hidden agendas. God, you couldn't wait.

*0*0*


End file.
